She wakes in the morning. Sleep in her eyes and a smile on her face. She looks in the mirror.
Imperfection, Imperfection, Imperfection.
She can't see the beauty before her. In each freckle that dots her
cheeks. In the slow, careful curve of her nose. Or in her alluring,
haunting eyes.
Imperfection, Imperfection, Imperfection.
She covers with makeup. A dab of foundation. Flick of mascara.
Perfection is finally achieved, but not. Because she keeps pulling
herself down with each hidden thought.
Imperfection, Imperfection, Imperfection.
The world only sees the face before them. Not the soul or heart of a
broken, beaten down woman striving to live up to society's preconceived
notions.
Imperfection, Imperfection, Imperfection.
She's clawing her way up. One step and then kicked back to the bottom by
the heartless elite she's attempting to be. She's crumpled in a heap
below their feet.
Imperfection, Imperfection, Imperfection.
Gathering strength, but still weak, she stands. Vowing to never live that way again.
Imperfection, Imperfection, Imperfection is beautiful. Perfection is boring.
She begins to find beauty in the smallest of places and faces.
Those freckles are beauty marks, those haunting eyes tell a story.
A story of a woman who almost gave in to the standards placed before her
but gained enough courage to see that God placed that woman and formed
her just like he wanted.
True beauty, you see, stems from the inside out. Strength, soul, heart, and mind are what makes the beauty flow outside.
Imperfection, Imperfection, Imperfection is what makes you, you.
©July 2, 2014 Bethany Davies
Click on Bethany Davies
for bio and list of other works published by Pencil Stubs Online.
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